


Tuesday Morning

by Scullysfan



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Rating: NC17, Romance, post-All Things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2015-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-13 21:28:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4538040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scullysfan/pseuds/Scullysfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reconnecting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tuesday Morning

When she drifted awake again, the apartment was silent, only the gurgling water of the fishtank to break the stillness. Carefully, she turned her head, feeling vertebrae in her neck pop -- Mulder might have slept regularly on his couch, but she bet he didn't do it sitting up. She missed his warmth beside her. Instead, the throw she gave him for his last birthday lay tucked around her. 

Sitting up, she stretched and tossed the wool cover to the side. A glance at her watch by the light from the fishtank put her nap right at three hours, give or take a few minutes. Such a short but peaceful, reinvigorating rest compared to previous nights of fitful, dream-filled sleep.

For the troubled, conflicted soul, a restful sleep was a rarity, no matter how many hours spent tossing and turning over fine cotton sheets in the hopes of finding the one perfect spot where deep dreamless slumber lies.

Dana Scully could vouch for that. 

But not tonight. Tonight she felt as if she'd awakened from a long sleep, emerging with a clear mind. 

Gathering their abandoned mugs, she padded into the kitchen. Leftover dark tea swirled down the drain, washed away by a flood of water as she rinsed the cups, leaving them to sit in the sink. Middle-of-the-night blackness hovered throughout the apartment, but familiarity led her to Mulder's bedroom. 

Not just familiarity, but also clarity. It was a wondrous thing really, she thought, standing in the doorway for a moment before crossing to the foot of his bed. 

Finally certain of her current path, at peace with the choices that led her to this job, this place... this man... 

She had reconnected with Mulder in a conversation longer than several ones spread over the last month. It was exactly what they'd needed.

Shrugging out of her jacket, she laid it at the foot of the bed before moving to the side she'd months before claimed as her own. Mulder's face was turned toward her, moonlight through the tree branches outside the window making shadows dance across his skin. She crossed her arms over her stomach, knit material bunched in her hands, and yanked her shirt over her head. Wild hairs fell into her face, and she shook her head, trying to clear her line of sight. Now that she was seeing clearly again, obstructions of any sort weren't welcome.

Call it the seven year itch or maybe just one of those occasional rough spots couples experience, episodes borne of external tensions burrowing into the relationship. Whatever it was, she and Mulder hadn't connected on too many levels lately. 

Her skirt joined the shirt on the floor, and she kicked them both aside as she tried to recall where they'd faltered. 

Several places, actually. The work had gone on, and they'd continued spending off hours together, but emotionally a distance had developed. Since he'd found his answers about Samantha, Mulder's trajectory had been sure -- full forward, straight ahead, no stops. While Scully... she'd chased after him, sometimes walking hand-in-hand, but lately slowing to a halt as she turned around and around, checking to make sure she was on the right path.

Daniel's reappearance in her life had shaken her to the core, but ultimately he was the biggest signpost of all. Daniel, who over ten years later claimed she was all he lived for and yet it wasn't really her who sustained him. Just who he imagined her to still be, an ideal, convenient as a shield against his own failures and responsibilities. Seeing him brought Mulder into sharp focus... Mulder who didn't need to say he lived for her; he just did. 

Daniel, the man who lived just miles from her for ten years, yet never once tried to be with her -- so certain was he that she'd eventually come to her senses and rejoin him on the path he'd chosen for them. Such a contrast to Mulder who tracked her to the ends of the earth and couldn't even allow her a solitary weekend vacation in Maine.

It was so obvious. All roads led to Mulder. 

Earlier that evening, as she'd laid bare her past with Daniel and the clarifying events of the last few days, she'd felt the worn tethers between her and Mulder begin to weave anew. 

Now she hoped Mulder had slept as well as she did the last few hours, because it was time for repairs to the other area where they'd faltered. Not since the night Scully returned from her fruitless journey with the Smoking Man had she and Mulder made love. That night after the Gunmen had left, Mulder rebranded her again as his in a frantic, frenzied fuck. Gentler euphemisms did not apply. It had been animalistic, for both of them, and Scully's stomach did flip-flops with the memory. 

Tonight was her turn to mark him, to stake her claim to what she'd had all along but lost sight of now and then.

The wind outside picked up, and thin branches of leaves scraped against the window's glass. Mulder stirred for a moment, rolling to face her and the middle of the bed. Hastily, Scully peeled off her pantyhose, silently cursing the fingernail that tore the thin fibers of one leg of the garment. Another one bites the dust. Imitating the high arc she'd seen Mulder practice with countless wads of paper, she balled up her hose and sent them flying across the bed to swoosh into the trashcan on the other side.

Leaving her panties and bra on the floor with the rest of her clothes, she slipped under the down comforter and scooted closer to the furnace that was his body. She rested on her side facing him, her eyes fully adjusted to the dark, making it easier to explore his face slack in sleep.

Soon touch demanded equal time with sight and the tips of her fingers followed her gaze. With the tracings of a whisper, she mapped his forehead, along his hairline to one temple where gentle pressure picked up a steady pulse. As she continued barely a ghost's touch over the softness of cheek and over the bridge of his nose, sleepy eyes opened. 

He blinked. Whispered. "What are you doing, Scully?"

"Hmmm... getting warm, stretching out... you left me sitting out there asleep, you know."

"I didn't have the heart to wake you," he murmured, his hand slipping from under the covers to tuck her hair behind her ear, a gesture so singularly Mulder her heart contracted. She'd missed it lately. "You looked like you could use the sleep."

She nodded, her gaze sliding from his eyes to where her finger smoothed over his lips. 

The caress spurred him into movement, and a large hand grasped her hip, pulling her flush with him.

"Did you sleep well, Scully?"

"Mmmhmmm..." she hummed. "Except my back and neck are a little stiff."

His hand moved to snake under her hair, long fingers wrapping around the back of her neck and already beginning to knead the cramped muscles there. She watched as sleepy eyes roamed her face, searching, she knew from experience, for answers beyond the verbal. 

"Want me to give you a massage?"

She shook her head, and he stilled.

"No?" 

"No..." Pulling his hand from her neck, she gestured with a nod of her chin that he should roll over. In this darkest of hours, she watched as the color of Mulder's eyes deepened into a coal- dark and inky blackness. With a look and the merest of touches to his shoulder, she spoke her command and he obeyed.

Moving to kneel beside him, she then turned her back to him, facing the foot of the bed. A flick of the comforter and he was bare before her. She trailed her hand down his chest, bisecting his abdomen, and smiling to herself at the quick breath drawn behind her. That she found her hand's goal still mostly slumbering didn't deter her mission. The effects of jet lag were no match for her. 

She turned her head to look at him over her shoulder. She pinned him with her gaze and swiped her tongue hungrily across her lips. "I think a little exercise should do wonders."

Holding him upright, she took a quick swipe with her tongue before engulfing him in the heat of her mouth, pulling back and starting all over again. Her fingers wrapped snugly around the base, she moved slowly at first -- her teeth scraping gently over tender flesh, her tongue first cradling him and then swirling laps around his circumference. 

Mulder's legs began shifting restlessly, his hips rising to meet her as she felt her efforts rewarded. Feeling him expand in her mouth, she quickened her pace, and he groaned, sending her heart's pulse rushing south. His hand moved to her lower back and stroked her there, soon curving over her ass and between her legs. 

Now it was her turn to groan. 

He stroked her in time to her movements, his fingers gliding over slick folds as she felt herself opening in readiness. 

At his "Scullyscullyscullyscully..." plea, her mouth left him with a final lap of the creamy bead at the tip. Turning and swinging her leg over him in one fluid motion, she straddled his body, her arms braced on either side of his shoulders. With a tilt of her hips she sank back and down, taking him within her even as he raised his head far enough to capture her lips. She tasted bitter tea and sweet Mulder. 

Their harsh gasps filled the air as they separated to breathe, punctuated by a moan's ellipsis... his or hers, she was past distinguishing. His hands were doing marvelous things to her breasts, serving to fuel the fire his length stoked within her. Leaning down to rest her forearms tight against his sides, her hands clutching his biceps, she rode him low... her head rising with each upward movement to nip at the underside of his chin.

Her breasts lost his touch as his hands came up to cradle her face. Both she and Mulder fought to hold the other in view, their eyelids conspiring to close. He would lose first, she could tell -- he was close, his thrusts becoming more erratic. And yet his gaze seem to see into her so completely, piercing her soul until she knew he understood... saw her final acceptance, and even embrace, of the life she had with him. 

He couldn't miss it. 

But just to be sure, she pressed her chest to him, a drop of sweat running down her neck to drip from her breastbone onto his. Through ragged panting breaths, she repeated the words he'd spoken to her months before... after he'd taken a journey without her, down a dark, overgrown path of what might have been. It was his vow to her -- uttered with the certainty of someone who'd found his way home. 

This, too, was her vow to him, for precisely the same reason.  
When she finished, he came with the arch of his back and his  
answer forced through clenched teeth, raw and primal.

"An'... I am... yours."

She redoubled her efforts to prolong his pleasure until finally he collapsed, his body limp beneath hers. 

The hands that had fallen from her face to clutch at the sheets came to grip her arms as she searched for her release. She ground her softness against the hard bone above where they were joined. A few more frantic rocks, and the tightness building between her legs reached the breaking point. An explosion of tremors flowed from her center out until every inch of her skin tingled and the dark silence of the room was compounded by the haze creeping across her vision, by the roar in her ears.

Spent, though still experiencing a pleasant buzz skipping along nerve endings, she draped herself over him, tucking her face against his neck. He mirrored the nuzzle, and their breaths warmed the other's cooling skin. When her muscles had stopped trembling, she climbed off him, chuckling a bit at his whimper of disappointment when he slid from inside her. Falling to his side, she nudged until he rolled away from her and she could wrap her arms around him from behind. Her head rested just above his on the pillow, her chin hooked over his shoulder and her nose pressed against the line of his jaw. She inhaled, trying to decide what he smelled like -- Mulder was all that came to mind. 

As she was sniffing him, he wriggled back more firmly against her, trying to seal their fit. Except they didn't fit this way -- a long-handled iced tea spoon attempting to nestle against a shorter soup spoon. An unlikely match, but Scully didn't care. Sometimes she just needed to envelope him. 

Although they dozed together for a few minutes, Scully allowed herself the luxury for only a short time. Tomorrow... today... was a workday. If Mulder didn't have her in an autopsy bay next Saturday, there'd be time for sleeping in on the weekend. For hours spent feasting on each other or the airy croissants from the coffee shop down the street. Weeknights together, though welcome respites from what they faced during the day, were necessarily brief.

Rubbing the tip of her nose along the curve of his ear, she whispered. "Mulder... I should get going."

He roused, his voice a sleepy rumble. "No, stay a little longer."

"I need to go home and take a shower, change clothes -- the only ones I have here aren't fit for work." Her hand made swirling circles over his chest, her nails scratching through the sparse hair.

Catching her hand in his two, he played with her fingers,  
wiggling them in a childlike manner to match his wheedling tone  
of voice.

"C'mon... stay, Scully."

"Mulderrr... You do this every time we're together on a weeknight."

He twisted to peer at her over his shoulder, his eyebrow raised and the side of his mouth quirked. "You leave every time, too."

A pang of worry hit her, and she stilled, searching his face for genuine damage. Even through the pre-dawn darkness she detected the sparkle in his eyes. Reassured, she untangled her arms from him and tugged until he lay on his back beneath her. She stacked her fists on his chest, resting her chin on them. Though she knew he harbored no real resentment, her tone was serious when she reminded him, "But I always come back." 

He grinned and tapped her on the nose. "That's what I like about you, Scully."

"How about if I pick up breakfast and then swing by to get you? We can ride in together."

"You promise not to bring any of those crappy bran muffins you keep trying to force-feed me?"

Pushing herself up, she groaned. "Oh, Mulder... poor choice of words."

Unrepentant, he shrugged and pulled her back down, rolling them over and pinning her to the bed. "No bran muffins, Scully." The whisper in her ear preceded a very persuasive kiss, ruined entirely by ten fingers dancing along her sides. Shrieking giggles she would deny to anyone but Mulder broke the stillness of his bedroom. 

"Yes, yes! I promise..." She scrambled back against the headboard, brushing her hair out of her eyes, and he flopped onto his back again, peering at her upside down. Rubbing his hair back the wrong way, she smoothed it down again and smiled. "I'll see if they have those jumbo cinnamon rolls you like. Maybe a couple of mocha lattes."

"Just get one for you, Scully -- I'll take a manly man's drink."

"An iced frappaccino grande?"

"Right." 

At her chuckle, he grabbed her hand and kissed the back of it, holding it to his cheek. The same hand, the same gesture Daniel had used. It was the feeling inside her that was different -- a peace that both her heart and her mind shared for the first time in longer than she cared to consider. 

She gave his hand a quick squeeze. "Okay?" 

"Ohhmm..kay," he yawned and nodded. 

"Go back to sleep. I'll be back around 7:30." 

She sipped two, three kisses from his lips before leaving the warmth of his side. Scooping up the clothes strewn all over the floor, she padded to the bathroom. 

Ten minutes and a sponge bath later, Scully was dressed. Her hair obeyed only slightly as her fingers combed through it until she gave up, and, glancing once more in the mirror, left the bathroom and its incessantly dripping faucet. If Mulder didn't have his super fix that before the next night she spent in his apartment, she was bringing the toolbox Missy gave her years ago and doing it herself.

Her jacket still lay at the foot of the bed, and she shrugged into it silently. 

He was asleep already as she knew he would be. Mulder never slept so well, so deeply as he did after they'd made love. Combine that phenomenon with jet lag that had to accompany two transatlantic flights in less than three days, and she'd be lucky if he was awake when she returned with breakfast. 

Some might wonder how she could even stand to leave him at all. It was simple -- she knew her way back now.

 

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Author notes and thanks: You know, in my mind, there wasn't anything at all ambiguous about the relationship between the teaser and the end of "all things" -- they did it, they've been doing it for a while, and it makes perfect sense for Scully to leave afterwards. Imagine my surprise that it wasn't as clear to some people. So I wrote this to help those folks out. 
> 
> Big thanks to a whole team of beta readers -- Jill, Lisa, Laney, Jean Robinson, and Paula G. They nitpicked, figured out endings, made up titles, thought up summaries and were incredibly encouraging.


End file.
